In the Dark
by Itsygo
Summary: Arkarian's rescue retold, basically. His point of view.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Arkarian, I don't own The Dark.**

I pray for unconsciousness. Sometimes, it blissfully comes, letting me slip into a delirious dream of recollections and fictions and torment. I say blissfully, because the physical pain is excruciating. Every square millimeter of my body is in agony, whether from loss of blood or direct injury.

When awake, I think of leaving a message for Isabel and Ethan, of somehow letting them now that Marduke lives. I move my hand, slowly, and dip one finger into the drying blood pooled on my chest, but I can only manage drawing a short straight line before passing out.

Memories flood me, distorted. The eight-year-old with pinpricks all over his palms, forced to sew at a glove maker's shop, is my age now; the child being slapped for dropping a cup of water has sapphire hair; my master's daughter on her knees in front of me has Isabel's face – my mind horrifies and revolts me with that one; my emaciated nine-year-old body opens hollow violet eyes; Marduke kills Sera and I am the one watching. I relive scenes of beatings, Marie being raped by our foster father after trying to stop him from hitting me with a stool. Isabel dies again, but I am not the one to save her; she only hears Ethan's voice.

And then, so do I; it is nothing more than a nonsensical mumble in my ears, but I know they are here now, and fight the fatigue that threatens to overpower me. I hear footsteps, and feel their vibrations. There is a hand on my arm, then another one, and I am rolled onto my back. I force my eyes to open, and Isabel's face, half-hidden behind a veil of sweaty golden strands, swims into my blurred view. My breath catches and I whisper her name.

"Save yourselves," I blink to clear my vision. "It's too late for me. Lathenia is after you. And there's something you must know." I begin pronouncing Marduke's name, but Isabel's finger stops my lips.

"No, don't speak! You have to conserve your energy. I'm not leaving without you, Arkarian."

I suck in a breath, as deep as my damaged lungs allow it. Straining, I lift up my head an inch. "You must be careful -"

"We know, Arkarian." A tear falls on my cheek. She is crying. Incredible sorrow hits me: I will die without ever being with her.

"We know that Marduke has somehow returned from the dead."

A sense of relief washes over me, but I have no strength left. My head hits the marble floor. Sounds die out and vision fades to black. I feel a pang of regret and a strange sense of peace.

I am ready to die.


	2. Chapter 2

My hearing is the first thing to come back. The sounds are muted, distant, and confusing, roars and barks and cries. I expect the pain to return, and then I am convinced that I am dead, that this is my own bizarre manifestation of the middle world. I hear a vaguely familiar male voice inquiring about the healing, turning my attention to my wounds. But there seem to be none – miraculously, nothing hurts anymore. My eyes snap open with the realization that I am alive, and that I am not going to die, at least for the time being, and I see Isabel, my healer, my savior, her beautiful tear-streaked face, her gentle hands covered with my blood. I grasp them, sitting up carefully. I expect the movement to trigger at least soreness, if not a twinge or two, but my muscles feel as lithe and elastic as ever, as though I have not spent the past several hours in a frigid place with various species of monsters attempting to bite chunks of flesh off my body.

Isabel blinks in disbelief, tiny droplets encrusting her eyelashes like crystals. I feel a throe of longing in my chest, as well as relief and gratitude and, most of all, love. I want to bounce up and down with happiness, and not knowing what else to do, I seize Isabel in a desperate hug, clutching as tightly as I possibly can without hurting her. Her arms wrap around me immediately, fingers forcefully grabbing folds of my ripped shirt in an attempt to bring me closer.

"You are amazing," I breathe out. She lets out a tremor and a sob, and I loosen my grip, worried. "I thought I'd lost you," she whispers into my neck. Our cheeks are touching now, and I pull away with regret, looking into her shining brown eyes. She holds my gaze, and her thoughts enter my head: she hopes there is a chance for us.

A bolt of pain explodes through my body; it is more torturous than anything Lathenia had made me live through. With each second, it increases, until I find it unbearable to look at Isabel. A tear rolls down her cheek, following a wet trail, stopping at the corner of her lips. I reach out, gingerly wiping the moisture of her reddened skin. Her lashes flutter against the tip of my finger. I know I should let go, but my hand does not listen to reason: it stretches, disappearing into her golden hair, drawing her towards me. Our foreheads touch, and I find myself nearer to her face, to her lips, than I have ever been. The thought has my heart racing with an agonizing speed. Does Isabel really want us to be together? I pray that she does. And because I do not really have as much self control as others like to believe, I kiss her irresistible mouth, getting lost in her warm, slithery touch.


End file.
